Perhaps, maybe, possibly
by seraphina83
Summary: Dean's sixteenth birthday was running a close second only to a bad case of frostbit very short oneshot in response to a prompt


Title: Perhaps, maybe, possibly

Category: gen

Rating: g

Summary: Dean's sixteenth birthday was running a close second only to a bad case of frostbite

Spoilers: None

Dean sat in the windowsill of the budget motel, forehead against the frigid pane. With ever exhalation of breath, the scene outside was momentarily obscured by condensation. Didn't make it any less there, though. Didn't make them any less snowed in. Didn't make them any less snowed in on Dean's _birthday_. And it certainly didn't make their Dad any less AWOL. That was the worse of it, really.

He'd been at John for weeks; begging his dad if perhaps, maybe, _possibly_, they could do something special for his upcoming sixteenth. Dean never straight out asked his dad for anything. It was always just a suggestion, a hint dropped here and there but never an all out demand. That was Sammy's arena.

This time, however, he was a bit more forceful in his suggesting. Perhaps, maybe, _possibly_ could they pay out just that little bit extra and get one of those motel rooms with the kitchenette? Perhaps, maybe, _possibly_ could they cook up a storm and eat a proper meal as a proper family, not some burger at some generic diner? Perhaps, maybe, _possibly_ could he get something other than a weapon for his birthday, like a night out for the three of them to the local cinema? And the answer had been the same as the question; Perhaps, maybe, _possibly._

Two days previous, they'd checked into this dump but Dean hadn't cared; he was too excited to see the kitchenette in the corner to notice the peeling wallpaper and the mildew on the wall above the sink. Then John had taken Dean aside, out of Sam's earshot. _Look after your bother. Back in a few days. Don't leave the room unless it's an emergency._ The usual. Dean tuned out the moment the first line passed his Dad's lips. He knew the spiel off by heart. Had known it by age five. Besides, he was too busy dealing with the dawning horror that his father didn't even remember his birthday and that, out the window, the neon 'NO' had suddenly lit up next to 'VAANY; John had had no choice but to take the room with the kitchenette.

Dean sighed and banged his forehead against the glass in frustration. With a minor blizzard settling in outside, even if he did grow the balls to defy John's last order, he couldn't do it without being on the receiving end of a healthy dose of hypothermia...or worse. Sure, spending his sixteenth birthday holed up in a motel with his bookworm brother off reading in the bathroom sucked, but it still beat spending it loosing your toes to frostbite.

Dean was telling himself to suck it up and stop being such a pussy bitch about the whole thing when the lights went out. He cursed himself for letting his guard down over something so girly and fumbled for the shotgun he knew to be next to the door.

He called for Sam as his fingers curled around the barrel, then slid the pump action back and forth when he received no answer. Fear for his brother lodged in his throat and his was about to call out again when the sudden flare of a flame lit up the room and Sam's grinning face behind it.

Dean was dumbstruck as he watched Sam approach him, a crappy, stale looking cupcake in his outstretched hands, a single candle burning in the middle of it, dripping wax all over the pink frosting. He only managed to lower the weapon he'd had trained on his little brother when Sam struck up a shaky rendition of Happy Birthday, ending the song as he stood directly in front of Dean.

"Make a wish, Dean. Then we'll cook up some grilled cheese and order a movie on pay-per-view!" Sam's grin hadn't wavered.

Still stunned by the completely unexpected turn of events, it took a moment for Dean to react. Then, clearing his throat and willing any kind of girly emotional response that most certainly was _not_ threatening to surface, Dean took a breath and blew out the candle.

In the darkness of the motel room Dean silently made his wish that he and Sam would be like this forever; perhaps, maybe, _possibly_.

**originally written as a response to a prompt in the livejournal community spnprompts. see my user profile for more info if you're interested**


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